


you know i'll take my heart clean apart if it helps yours beat

by butterflylungs



Category: TharnType the Series (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, discussions of rape (nothing graphic), fluff with a pinch of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:53:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24453982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflylungs/pseuds/butterflylungs
Summary: “And I’m alive, okay? I’m here, in front of you, safe, because you saved me. You made it in time. You hear me, Tharn?”*In the aftermath of Lhong, Tharn struggles.
Relationships: Tharn Thara Kirigun/Type Thiwat Phawattakun
Comments: 16
Kudos: 305





	you know i'll take my heart clean apart if it helps yours beat

**Author's Note:**

> hello it is me again, writing a fic every 2 to 3 years when i get a new obsession. this time it's thai dramas bc why not. 
> 
> i rly wanted to see more of type comforting tharn and i felt that the most natural way to do it was by exploring how they deal with the fallout of what happens with lhong. huge thanks to [hazel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurtstiel/pseuds/kurtstiel) for reading over this, getting me into thai dramas in the first place and freaking out with me over the course of the past couple months. 
> 
> heads up for discussions of rape (tar's mostly), nothing graphic but be careful if you need to, please! title is from two by sleeping at last

It was late at night, and Type was sitting at the table in his and Tharn’s shared apartment, finishing an assignment that was due for the next day. The room was quiet, the curtains drawn, the only light coming from the soft glow of a lamp and the screen of Type’s laptop; Type could hear Tharn’s soft, even breaths coming from the bed behind him, and he wished with every bone in his body that he could be laying next to him, feeling Tharn’s warm body pressed against his.

It was a few days after everything with Lhong had happened. Type was worried about Tharn: in the aftermath, he’d been distant, withdrawn. Where Type was loud, Tharn was quiet. He knew he’d been in contact with Tar, had caught him multiple times looking at his phone with furrowed brows, and he didn’t mind, for once. Honestly, he thought it might be good for the both of them, to try and heal, move forward. He’d been talking to Tar himself; the kid had been through a traumatizing ordeal and he hadn’t deserved what happened to him.

Type would know.

Still, Tharn kept insisting that he was fine, showing instead concern for Type’s well-being. Type thought it was bullshit: after all, he hadn’t been the one to find out that his best friend was a rapist, crazily obsessed with him. Every inquiry on Type’s part was met with assurances and avoidance, and Type had even gotten angry at Tharn, snapping and telling him: _“You can’t seriously be fine after everything that happened, do you think I’m an idiot!”_ , but still, nothing

All he’d managed to do was put a look of hurt on Tharn’s face, something he longed to never do again after the ordeal of having to break up with him in order to expose Lhong. So he’d dropped it, but he’d been keeping a close eye on Tharn after that. He could just feel it in his stomach, a bad feeling, a premonition that something in Tharn was going to give eventually, and he intended to be there for him when it happened. He’d already failed Tharn too many times; he had a lot to make up for.

Type sighed, annoyed. He wished he could tell his teachers that no, he could not turn in his assignments in time in the foreseeable future because he was a little busy dealing with the fallout of exposing a fucked-up piece of shit for his actions. But, alas. 

He looked through what he’d written so far, trying to decide if it was good enough to just be done and give up, when Tharn mumbled something. Thinking he’d woken up, Type turned around to check on him, but as far as he could see, Tharn’s eyes were still closed. He was moving under the sheets, though, writhing, and his breathing had picked up.

“No...no, stop,” Tharn babbled, his voice dripping fear. Type’s heart immediately dropped, recognizing the signs of what was happening, something he was very familiar with: Tharn was having a nightmare.

“Stop...Type, Type!” Tharn’s voice rose to a shout. Type got up on unstable legs, closing the distance between him and the bed, dropping on the mattress beside Tharn. In the time they’d known each other, he’d never seen Tharn have a nightmare. He was usually the one who would wake up in the middle of the night screaming, crying, covered in sweat. This was a completely new situation, and Type found that he was _scared_. Tharn’s face was contorted in fear, his hands gripping the sheets, his body agitated like he was trying to physically fight off the dream.

“Type! No!” 

With shaking hands, Type reached for Tharn’s shoulders and shook him. “Tharn, wake up. Wake up!”

Tharn’s breathing had become fast-paced, irregular. He was crying now, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks, scared moans slipping past his lips. Type grabbed his face, his heart racing in his chest.

“Wake up, hey, wake up!” He was yelling now, a plea in his voice. He couldn’t stand to watch Tharn like this, to see the fear etched on his face, a face that should always be smiling, always be happy. He didn’t want to hear Tharn’s voice crack around his name like that, not with that awful emotion. 

Tharn’s eyes finally opened, and his hands grabbed Type’s biceps. He looked at him unblinkingly for a moment, and then his expression broke. He leaned forward and grabbed Type around the waist, his fingers tangling in Type’s shirt so tight that Type thought he would tear the material.

“You’re okay,” he was saying, so fast the words were tripping over each other. “Type, you’re okay, you’re fine, you’re okay.”

Type had no idea what to do. He froze, a knot in his throat, frustration filling his chest. Why couldn’t he do something as simple as comfort his boyfriend in a moment of need? Sure, this was an entirely new situation, but he was supposed to _know_ what to do. Tharn always seemed to know, always managed to soothe him in all the right ways.

 _Snap out of it_ , he thought. It wasn’t the moment for self-pity. He could analyze what a shitty boyfriend he was later; Tharn needed him. He decided to do what Tharn always did for him; he decided to be gentle, for once in his goddamn life. Shifting both him and his boyfriend, Type got Tharn to sit up and then he guided his head on his shoulder. They were facing each other, Tharn’s head down; he was still crying softly.

Type slid his fingers in Tharn’s smooth but messy hair, stroking the strands in a manner that he hoped was soothing. “Shh, Tharn. I’m here, I’m okay,” he murmured, because Tharn seemed to think that he wasn’t. His other hand traced a path up and down Tharn’s spine, a slow and rhythmic movement. 

“You’re okay,” Tharn choked out. His chest was heaving for breath, like he couldn’t find enough oxygen in the room. 

“I’m okay, I’m here with you, see? Calm down,” Type reassured him. He tried to convey calm with his voice, but he could hear the slight hint of panic in his own tone. Thankfully, Tharn seemed to not notice, and after a few moments his breathing started to even out. 

Type continued to hold him through it, even when his tears seemed to stop. Tharn sniffled, raising his head from Type’s shoulder. His eyes were red-rimmed, his fringe falling messily over his forehead. Type felt his heart break a little. He looked so young in that moment, so fragile. A wave of unbearable tenderness for this boy almost consumed him. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, seemingly genuinely torn up over...what? Having a nightmare? It’s not like it was something he could control.

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Type scoffed, a hand still raised and stroking Tharn’s hair. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Tharn averted his gaze, choosing to look down instead. “Nothing’s wrong, it was just a nightmare.”

This, again. Type breathed in and out, willing himself not to have an outburst, not after having seen Tharn work himself into such a state. But could he still let it go, act like nothing was happening? He couldn’t stand to see Tharn suffer by himself when he was right there, waiting and wanting to help. They were supposed to be there for each other; if only Tharn would _fucking_ let him.

“You were calling my name,” Type bit out. “You were terrified. I know something’s wrong, I know something is eating away at you. Why won’t you tell me?”

Tharn clenched his jaw, and silence fell heavily around them. The seconds ticked away, dragged on, until Type thought he wouldn’t get anything out of Tharn, not now, not ever. At last, Tharn mumbled something.

“I didn’t hear you,” said Type.

“It’s not about me!” Tharn finally raised his head, looking at him straight on. “It’s not about me,” he repeated more calmly, his voice shaky. “It’s not me who got hurt, it was Tar, and you, I shouldn’t...he got Tar _raped_ , he almost killed you, and I’m the one who’s struggling?”

Type stared at him, dumbfounded. So this was the issue? Tharn didn’t feel like it was his right to hurt, to feel sad over the situation? 

“Ai’Tharn, you idiot,” he burst out. Tharn flinched and made to move away, but Type grabbed his shoulders, keeping him in place. “Yes, Lhong hurt a lot of people, _including you_. He drove away all your exes–” Type forced himself to say the word, even though he didn’t like to think about Tharn being with other people “–making you think that there was something wrong with you. He was supposed to be your friend, but he hurt you and the people you care about. He betrayed you. You are allowed to not be okay.”

“But Tar–”

“What happened to Tar is wrong. What he tried to do to me is wrong. And you are still allowed to be hurt, those things can co-exist. Is this why you wouldn’t tell me? You felt...guilty?”

“Of course I feel guilty,” Tharn admitted in a soft breath. “Look at what happened to Tar, because Lhong is in love with me. Look at what almost happened to you. He could’ve killed you, Type, and I can’t stop thinking about it, I can’t stop seeing him pick up that rock and–”

Tharn’s voice gave out abruptly, and his shoulders slumped. He seemed to fold into himself. He’d never thought Tharn could seem so small, and he hated it. His hands, still on Tharn’s shoulders, slid up to his face. Tharn grabbed onto his wrists tightly, seemingly holding on for dear life.

“That’s what I dreamed tonight. That I couldn’t stop in time, that he s-smashed the rock on your head, and there was so much blood, but he k-kept going and you were dead, because of me, you said that everything you do is for _me_.”

“Stop, Tharn, stop it,” Type cut him off. “Look at me, now.” When Tharn obeyed, Type kept going. “Yes, everything I do is for you, and you know what? That’s _my_ choice, which you’re not responsible for. And by the way, you’re also not responsible for Lhong’s actions. Everything he did, it falls on him and him only. You’re as much as victim as everyone else he hurt, and that’s that.”

Type didn’t let Tharn protest before he added: “And I’m alive, okay? I’m here, in front of you, safe, because you saved me. You made it in time. You hear me, Tharn?”

Tharn’s lower lip trembled, his eyes glassy with tears, but he nodded slowly.

“You’re never going to keep things from me again, you’re going to tell me when you’re struggling, so I can help. Just like you’ve helped me. Promise,” Type commanded. He didn’t know any other way to be; he was angry, and bossy, and demanding, but Tharn seemed to always have been okay with it. Hopefully, now that Tharn had broken through that first wall, he would finally listen to him.

He knew a few words wouldn’t erase the guilt that Tharn still felt, he could still see the shadow behind his eyes, but it would be a start. He’d already told Tharn to stop blaming himself, the night the confrontation happened, and he would keep telling him until he started believing it. Tharn needed to know that Type didn’t blame him, and that he was willing to listen, to be there in his own way, to catch Tharn when he fell.

Tharn nodded again. “Okay,” he agreed. “I promise, Type. I’m sorry.”

“I thought I told you to stop apologizing,” Type reminded him, before drawing Tharn into a kiss, just to make sure he felt how much Type was alive and breathing, real next to him. Tharn’s lips immediately opened under his, and he responded to the kiss with a ferocity that surprised Type. 

Tharn’s hands gripped his waist tightly, their mouths moving against each other, together. Tharn sucked on Type’s bottom lip and then he nudged it with his tongue. Type opened his mouth, letting their tongues slide against each other; he buried his fingers in Tharn’s hair, gripping the strands. 

Tharn whimpered, pulling Type forward. Type rose on his knees and then dropped unceremoniously on Tharn’s lap, their bodies molding against each other. Tharn held him tight, as if the closeness wasn’t enough, as if he wanted to fold Type into himself. Type wouldn’t have complained; he wanted his way into Tharn’s body, under his skin, in his veins, in his bloodstream. He wanted to always be there, with him, in any way possible. 

Tharn’s lips left his with a wet sound, and Type complained wordlessly at the loss, but Tharn made up for it by diving for his neck, his hands simultaneously slipping under Type’s shirt, finding skin. Type held the back of Tharn’s head and threw his own head back, giving Tharn better access to his throat. Tharn nipped at the skin, sucking, licking, driving Type insane, the press of his lips tantalizing and addicting.

It wasn’t about sex and it wasn’t about lust. Tharn needed to feel Type under him, blood rushing, heart beating, and Type needed to know that Tharn was with him, that he wasn’t lost in his guilt, in his pain, all alone. 

Tharn’s frantic movements gradually slowed, his lips kissing gently instead of marking. Type understood why when he felt wetness against his neck. He grabbed the sides of Tharn’s face and forced him to look up at him, then he swiped his thumbs under Tharn’s eyes, drying the newly falling tears.

“Crybaby,” he teased, not cruelly, his voice far kinder than he ever thought he was capable of. Tharn chuckled wetly and then wrapped his arms around Type’s waist, hugging him. Type reciprocated by circling his arms around Tharn’s shoulders, embracing him back.

They stayed like that, in the half-darkness of the room, their breaths the only sound around them. Type marvelled at how content he felt in the moment, safe in Tharn’s arms, in their apartment, away from the world. If he could stay like this forever, he would: with Tharn, in their own little bubble, never needing anything or anyone else. He could only hope Tharn felt the same way, although he knew he was far more difficult to deal with than Tharn was. 

Someday, he would figure out why Tharn chose him, of all people. For now, he could only be glad that he was so lucky. 

“I love you, Type,” Tharn whispered. Type felt his cheeks flush, his heart picking up in an uneven pit-patter against his ribcage, as if trying to escape, maybe to make its way into Tharn’s chest. 

He’d faced death for Tharn, risked his own life, broke his own bones walking away from him. He would’ve thrown everything away, just for him, and still, hearing those words made him feel shy, and saying them back made him feel vulnerable, like he was reaching into his stomach and pulling his guts out, bleeding all over himself. He could do grand gestures, life-threatening ones, but those small moments of unguarded sincerity still made him trip all over himself.

Still, he knew the truth of his own feelings, deep down to his marrow. The love he felt for Tharn was an alive thing, a wild thing, that roared and filled every crack of his angry and tattered soul. He could not longer ignore it, didn’t want to anyway. 

“Love you too,” he murmured back, testing the words on this tongue for the second time, feeling the blood rush in his ears. He’d said it again, and the world kept spinning, the night kept moving. Tharn hugged him closer, pressing a smile into his shoulder. 

They were going to be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [tumblr](https://alxandermagnus.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/builtempires) if u wanna chat! any mistakes are completely mine, english isn't my first language


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